My Love Won't Fade Away
by Rainy1
Summary: Arthur has been best friends with Alfred for ten long years. He watched him grow up. He comforted him. He was there for him throughout all of the ups and downs of his life. He had fallen oh so deeply in love with him... And now, Arthur is going to lose him.
1. Chapter 1

He never expected to fall in love. Arthur Kirkland was more than content living out his life without the love of a romantic partner in it.

That is, until he met Alfred F. Jones.

Arthur was seventeen years old, and Alfred was a freshman, who was just entering the world of high school, when they met. Alfred was interested in sports, he received decent grades, had a fair amount of friends, and even though he was in the middle of puberty, he had a handsome face and was a good height. You either loved Alfred F. Jones or you hated him. There was no in between.

Arthur, of course, was not instantly fond of the American. He viewed Alfred as a person who was far too oblivious for their own good. The git was so disgustingly optimistic and talked to everyone about practically anything!

And so, it was just his luck when Alfred became attracted to Arthur like a month to flames. Arthur could never understand why the boy was so fixed on talking to him and trying to befriend him. It made no sense; they were practically polar opposites! Arthur put all of his focus into his school work, he didn't play or even enjoy sports, he liked to drink tea and knit, and he often read books and even wrote his own original stories. Alfred had no reason to be so interested in him, but alas, he was. Alfred was so drawn to the older boy and wouldn't let him go until the snappy Britain grew to like him.

And that's explain what had happened and more.

* * *

By the end of the year, he and Alfred had become best friends. No one was completely sure how or why it happened, but it worked out and that was that. Arthur was always there for Alfred. Despite hating sports with a passion, he went to his football games and cheered him on, he helped him study, he gave him advice, and he even stayed up late on weekdays when the younger boy couldn't sleep and talked to him on the phone until one of them passed out.

The favor was returned, of course. Alfred was always there for Arthur. He comforted him in times of need, he read the books that the older boy recommended to him, he read Arthur's own original stories, and he even proudly wore a warm hat all winter long that the British boy had knitted him. But the greatest gift that the American gave him was the gift of true friendship; something that had previously been a void in Arthur's life.

On the last game of the season, Arthur surprisingly cheered the loudest. If you were to presently ask him about it, he would say that all of the pain that his voice took that night wasn't even worth it considering how terrible Alfred did (the poor boy was downright awful at sports). Nevertheless, the faint spark in his green eyes would tell you otherwise.

And when the day of Arthur's high school graduation came around and the principal called his name and he walked up to the stage proudly, Alfred cheered the loudest… louder than he probably should have, according to Arthur and the poor people seated around Alfred. The British boy found it absolutely embarrassing to watch his young best friend stand on the metal chair all while unprofessionally whooping and throwing his fists animatedly into the air… But if you were to ask Arthur about that day, he would leave out that part entirely.

After the ceremony, Arthur ended up driving them away to a park that was near Alfred's house. There, at that park at 1:15pm in the vacant grassy hills, was when the boys shared their first deep conversation; the conversation that had really begun it all.

Arthur had initiated it. He confined in his best friend about how, despite how mature he made himself out to be, deep down, he was honestly afraid of growing up. He was afraid to be an adult and he was afraid to live out his own life due to his fear of something going wrong, just as his childhood was. Things got even more emotional when Arthur continued on the subject of his family and revealed to his for once silent friend about how he was never close to any of his family members. While his mother did baby him when he was an infant, both of his parents were more than often busy trying to maintain enough money to support their large family. Arthur wasn't even close to his brothers to begin with and he often secluded himself away from them. His parents were hardly ever home, and his brothers were never there for him, and so Arthur was forced to teach himself how to do this and that and what this means and how to properly use that. As a result, Arthur had grown up too quickly. He explained that he figures that it is the reason why he was so different from Alfred and the rest of their peers.

And from that note, Alfred revealed his story. For the first time in their friendship, Alfred had let his seemingly invisible walls down for his best friend. Quietly, the blue eyed boy told his story.

His father had abandoned his family long ago; so long ago, in fact, that Alfred couldn't even remember what he had looked like. His mother, who desperately loved their father, took her loss out on her sons. She put down Alfred and his brother Matthew and tore them apart with verbal insults and remarks, and had even physically harmed the both of them on more than one occasion. It was more painful for little Matthew than it ever was for Alfred, who always had a friend who was there for him and who was born a lot stronger than Matthew was. The soft spoken boy was seven years old when their father left and it seemed to him that every time that he had opened his mouth, he was shot down by his mother. And so, from a very young age, Matthew had taught himself to be invisible. Unfortunately, that had caused a lot of emotional damage to the little boy, who would often have mental break downs as he got older. His brother's distress broke his heart, and so Alfred forced himself to become a hero for his little brother. He tried everything that he possibly could to help him. He had spent most of his time with his brother talking to him, comforting him, had tried to get him to interact with others, and he had even tried to get him to talk to the school counselor.

Nothing ever worked. No matter what Alfred did, Matthew was still broken. And it killed Alfred. Nobody wants to see their sibling go through life like that… Alfred said that he couldn't wait until he was eighteen so that he could take Matthew away and escape from that prison, even if Matthew was still scarred. But what Arthur found the most amazing was that despite going through that kind of torture for years, Alfred had managed to stay strong. He had stayed bright and optimistic for himself and his brother because "someone has to be a hero".

Hearing that heart breaking story made Arthur feel as though his problems were petty little stones compared to Alfred's ocean of issues. The British boy could not understand why someone would treat their own children like that way. That god awful woman had ruined her sons from the inside out. She had one boy who forced himself to remain closed up and unseen for the majority of his life, and she had another who forced himself to always be happy just to give his brother a reason to live. It made Arthur's head fume and his heart fill up with rage.

All Arthur wanted to do was keep Alfred safe. He wanted to teach the younger boy that it was perfectly alright to not be happy all of the time, and that sometimes you need to let other people be the hero. He ached to whisk his best friend away from the jaws of the monster and pull him into the light of his arms. He never wanted Alfred to leave, and he wanted to protect him forever. He…

He loved him.

Yes, he loved him.

Arthur had never even wanted love, but then this thick headed, wonderful American with sparkling, sky blue eyes and an electrifying smile threw himself right into his life and made Arthur fall for him… And oddly enough, he was alright with it.

That was the day that Arthur had fallen in love with Alfred.

And the feeling was mutual.

* * *

"What on Earth even _compelled_ you to buy that… that… completely horrendous piece of machinery!?"

"Aw, come on, Artie! I think it's really cool!"

Twenty-six year old Arthur glared at his best friend of almost ten years, who was leaning against a glossy, brand new motorcycle with a massive, dopey grin plastered across his face. Arthur leaned back against the cool wall of Alfred's house and rubbed the bridge of his nose in disbelief.

"You could've gotten something to do with your guitar, but no, of course you just had to spend your raise on something so utterly preposterous!" The Brit spat as he watched his friend rub the seat of his sparkling blue bike and fondly regard it as if it were a new born baby.

"Mattie likes it." Alfred pointed out, giving his beloved friend a playful smirk. Arthur crossed his arms, obviously unamused and opinion remaining unchanged.

"You brother is also dating the idiot who was convinced that my eyebrows were real caterpillars for the majority of our childhood." Arthur reminded. Alfred sighed softly and closed the space between them

"Arthur, don't worry!" He spoke playfully as he threw his arms around the shorter man in an unnaturally tight embrace, "I promise I'll be fine!"

"Let go of me, you twit!" He hissed. The younger man didn't obey, and instead clung to his best friend and practically lifted him off of his feet.

"Come on, Art! I know you love hugging me!" He teased with a joyful laugh and pressed his nose against Arthur's choppy blond hair. The man in question continued to struggle as his face flushed brightly.

"Yes, yes, but I also like being able to breathe!" He hissed and flailed his arms behind Alfred's back. The American let out a strand of heart warming laughter and finally released his steaming friend. Arthur panted slightly and fell to his bum. He leaned back against the garage and closed his eyes. Alfred soon followed suit and plopped himself down next to Arthur with a happy smile stretched across his face.

"I can take ya for a ride if you want!" Alfred bribed, gazing at Arthur affectionately. Arthur, however, snapped open his eyes and scowled at Alfred.

"No. I'd rather spend a week straight with Francis than allow you to haul me around on _that_." He explained, nodded towards the bike. Alfred pouted and shoved his face into Arthur's hair.

"But it'd be so fun!" He whined and rubbed his long nose against Arthur's head. The older man flushed again and tried to shrug the American off of him.

"Stop being such an idiot, you're not fourteen anymore! And why the hell do you insist on being so touchy today?" He countered, successfully pushing Alfred's head away from his own. Arthur twisted around so that both men were facing each other. Alfred was fondly staring down at Arthur with his big blue eyes shining with friendliness, which caused the Brit's heart to flip. Arthur quickly averted his gaze away and heard the American chuckle softly.

"I'm hungry, let's go inside." Alfred decided as he stood up. Arthur rolled his eyes and followed Alfred's lead.

"That's nothing new."

He heard Alfred unleash another strand of obnoxious laughter as they made their way up to the front door. Alfred quickly swung it open and held it in place.

"Ladies first!" He sneered, earning himself a quick jab to the chest from Arthur as he calmly entered the home.

He had always felt strangely at home here. The house had a sort of sentimental feel to it. It was Alfred's first home, and Arthur was by his side to watch him pick it out. He was also dragged along when Alfred was given the clearance to view it in person, Arthur recalled smiling proudly as his friend was handed the keys, and he was even there to help him pick out cheap furniture. Arthur considered the home as sort of a step in their friendship. It was practically _their_ home, afterall! He found himself smiling fondly as he pictured moving his own belongings into this very room after they become boyfr—

"Earth to Artie! You there?"

The older of the two friends blinked and jumped slightly. He hadn't realized that he had successfully managed to slip away into another daydream… Again.

"O-oh yes, Alfred, I'm here. What is it?"

He turned his sight towards the kitchen and got a lovely view of Alfred leaning against the arch of the kitchen wall, chowing down on a piece of cold sausage and pepperoni pizza and getting bits of it all over his mouth.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your little meeting with the fairies and unicorns, but I was wondering if you were hungry?"

"Quit playing that card against me; I was fucking drunk!" Arthur spat, "But no, you can eat all of the damn food that you'd like. I'll pass."

Alfred shrugged and took another large bite of his poor excuse for a dinner and walked over to the tan couch.

"Suit yourself." He replied as he sat himself down on the excessively used plush cushions. Arthur quickly followed suit and sat down besides his friend. Alfred contently leaned back against the couch and clicked on the T.V. The pair was very loudly welcomed with the final scene of a crime show.

"Alfred, turn the damn volume down! I've been telling you for years that you're going to get brain damage from how loud you listen to the bloody telly!" Arthur scolded with a glare of disapproval. Alfred's reply was a stiffened laugh followed by a harsh cough, thanks to a bite of pizza going down the wrong pipe.

"And just what is so bloody funny that you choke on your own food?" Arthur questioned, changing his position on the couch so that he could stare, erm, _glare_, at him all he wanted. Alfred just continued to switch between laughing and choking as the protagonist in the program was shot in the stomach and screamed brutally. The T.V was still at an unreasonable volume, so while Alfred was having his fit, Arthur frowned and leaned over him to grab the remote and lower the damn volume so that their ears won't bleed. Alfred's little fit went down with the volume as he began to calm down.

"T… T… Telly…" He could barely finish speaking before he erupted into a fit of laughter, the half eaten pizza in his grasp long forgotten. Arthur raised his brilliant brows in disbelief.

"Are you serious? You still laugh at that? Alfred, it's not that funny!" He countered to no avail as Alfred continued to laugh. Arthur frowned; growing tired of this nonsense, and forcefully pushed Alfred off of the couch and onto the floor. The blue eyed blond landed on his stomach with a thud as his laughter slowly subsided.

"Are you quite finished now?" Arthur asked after Alfred's panting ceased. He nodded and stood up.

"Yeah… But you owe me another pizza." Alfred replied with a grin as he reached for the slice of perfectly good pizza that was now lying face down on the carpet. Arthur felt his cheek grow warm thanks to that stupid smile that he always ends up swooning over. Thankfully, Alfred didn't notice as he walked off into the kitchen to dispose of the food.

"Do ya work tomorrow?" Alfred asked as he trudged back into the living room. Arthur nodded as he absentmindedly watched the program. He felt the couch shift under Alfred's weight as he sat down.

"Yes, eight to four, per usual. What about you? Please tell me that you're not leaving me alone with Francis again…"

"Nope! Lucky you, I got scheduled for eight to four too! I might see if I can take the four to midnight shift the next day though. I want to take my new bike out for a spin around town."

"Why did you even buy it in the first place? You broke your bloody arm when you were fifteen because you fell off of your damn bicycle. What makes you think that you can handle that… Thing?" Arthur asked, glancing up towards Alfred, who was blankly watching the program.

"Dunno. But you never know until you try it!"

Arthur sighed in defeat. It was no use to try and argue with him. Alfred had bought it and he was hell bent on putting it to good use. But is it really wrong to be so worried over him? Arthur knew that plenty of people get seriously injured thanks to motorcycle accidents, and he'd be damned before he let Alfred get hurt. The boy was an oblivious, obnoxious, too much for his own good ball wrapped up in a hero complex, and while Arthur did have his days when the twit overly annoyed him… He loved him nevertheless. He honestly still loved him after all of these years, and he just wanted Alfred to be safe, even if it meant playing mother hen for the rest of his life.

The thought made Arthur's stomach flip, and he covered his mouth in embarrassment. He peered up at his friend to see that he was, thankfully, glued to the T.V screen. Arthur caught himself smiling. That's certainly a great example of Alfred for you…

The Britain suddenly felt the urge to rest his head against Alfred's shoulder and just cuddle with him then and there. Arthur felt his heart drop. Oh how he wished it could be that easy… His heart ached to be able to just finally be more than friends with Alfred. He wanted to know what his lips tasted like, what his smile looked like when he wakes up in the morning, what he—

"Artie? Are you alright?"

Arthur snapped his head up at the sudden interruption. His face flushed brightly upon realization that he was leaning against Alfred, and feeling Alfred's strong arm hung around his shoulders made his knees grow weak.

"You were doing the thing where you mutter to yourself again." Alfred exclaimed with a friendly smirk. Arthur cleared his throat nervously and quickly shot himself up onto his feet. He rubbed down his wool sweater anxiously and tried to avoid direct eye contact.

"Yes, well, I should be getting home now. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hey, Artie, wait!"

Arthur paused just as he was about to turn around and leave without a final look back. He slowly revealed his green eyes to Alfred, who was looking up at him hopefully and oh, the look in his big blue eyes was so desperate, Arthur felt guilty for wanting to leave so suddenly.

"Would you wanna hang out tomorrow after work? We can rent a movie and come back here. I'll even let you pick it!"

Arthur's face softened and he smiled warmly down at Alfred. The smile seemed to make the American feel better, since he was starting to look less like a kicked puppy.

"Yes, Alfred. I'd love that."

* * *

**Alright, so I have quite a bit to say about this story. First up, _oh my gosh this thing has been in progress for so long._ I started writing the prompt in October. 10 pages and two months later, it was finished. I started the first draft of this chapter immediately afterwards, and that was finished in about a month! **

**Now, on a more important note... _This fanfic is based on a true story_. It's based off of the story about my mother and her best friend. Obviously some things will be tweaked a bit, but it's mostly the romance considering my mom and her best friend were 100% platonic. **

**... Honestly, I am a very slow updater. Especially considering I have a side project going on (The Daily Life of The Bad Touch Trio) and two MORE fanfics (7 Days to Steal Your Heart and Best Kept Secret- the second one being one that is currently undergoing plot notes). Add artwork and amv making to that list and it's pretty long... But considering I have all of the plot notes already written (and in _very fine_ detail, I may add) it shouldn't be too _too_ long. **

**I am super duper excited that this is finally publish and I can't wait to hear what people think about it! This is probably one of my favorite stories I've written, and I hope that some other people enjoy it just as much as I do!**

**See ya guys soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**[Alfred]**

**Ya sure you don't want me to pick u up? The bikes not as scary as it looks lol :)**

**[Message received: 7:32AM]**

**[Me]**

**Yes, Alfred, I am positive. Now go head off to work. I'll see you soon. And don't you even dare think about using your phone while riding that thing!**

**[Message sent: 7:34AM]**

**[Alfred]**

**Awww okay Artie. Ill see u soon then! Don't forget about our plans tonight too btw!**

**[Message received: 7:39AM]**

With a roll of his tired eyes, Arthur placed his cell phone on top of the counter and took another sip of his morning tea. The thought of their later plans have been racing through Arthur's mind ever since he left his best friend's home the evening prior. While it certainly wasn't a rare thing for them to make plans together, something about this one in particular felt… New. Maybe even different, if you will. Just thinking about it made the Brit's stomach flip, and he averted his thoughts to a different topic.

Unfortunately, the thought that Arthur's mind switched to was a not so pleasant one. As much as he'd rather avoid admitting it, Arthur was still concerned for Alfred's safety as long as that goon was still cruising around town on that blasted motorcycle. Who in the right mind would even think that selling _Alfred_ a motorcycle would be a good idea? One look at the American should tell you that he is one who is certainly not fit to operate it!

Arthur sighed heavily, severing the pesky thought. He got up and trudged over to the sink, placing his empty mug in it and making a mental note to himself to do the dishes after his evening with Alfred. The British man patted down his black, long sleeved button down, pocketed his cell phone, and quickly left his home. The chilly October air pecked at Arthur as he hurriedly made way into his car. The time on his phone read 7:45AM as he pulled out of his driveway.

* * *

"What are you doing back in the kitchen, _mon cher_? I don't think it'd be a good idea to allow you to poison people with your _affreux _cooking; it's why you're a waiter, _non_?"

"Oh can it, frog. Have you seen Alfred? It's 8:15, he should've been here already."

Francis Bonnefoy, an old, obnoxious "friend" from Arthur's childhood, shrugged nonchalantly as he prepared a plate of pancakes and eggs.

"I'm sure _votre petit ami_ is fine, stop worrying and go take this to table four, eyebrows." Francis replied and held out the plate for his coworker. Arthur frowned and shook his head in annoyance.

"Have someone else do it; I'm going to go call him."

Before the Frenchman could argue, Arthur paced through the busy, hot kitchen and took the exit in the back. The cold air greeted Arthur with force, but he ignored it as he frantically clawed out his cell phone and clicked on Alfred's contact.

One ring…

Two rings…

"Damn it, pick up, you twit…" Arthur hissed. His heart was racing a mile a minute as his brain played a million scenarios as to why Alfred wasn't at work. What if he was in the hospital? What if he had gotten into an accident on his way to work? What if he was dead, or seriously injured? Hell, why was Arthur even _at_ work if Alfred could be lying on a hospital bed by now?

"Hello?"

The familiar American accent snapped Arthur right out of his unwanted thoughts.

"You git, where are you! You had me so damn worried, you know that? For God's sake, Alfred—"

"Hey, hey, hey, don't get your panties in a bunch! I'm fine, I promise. Mattie had another nightmare last night, so I went over to his place on my way to work and I just got caught up with him. I don't think I'll be coming in today; this one was pretty bad…"

Arthur let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding as Alfred droned on. Good, so it was just Matthew again… The British man snaked his shaking fingers through his choppy locks and closed his glistening green eyes in relief.

"That's fine, Alfred, just… Please let me know where you are next time."

"Dude, what?" Alfred asked after a moment of pondering silence, "Are you still worried about the bike thing?"

Arthur detected a hint of annoyance in his friend's voice, and he scowled, "Of course I am!" He heard a faint groan erupt from the other end of the line.

"Come on, Art. It's not like I'm fifteen anymore. I'm twenty-three now! I'm sure I can handle it without you switching into a mother hen mode every time I leave my house."

Arthur's scowl deepened and he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine, Alfred, just fine. If you're not going to come by today, then I'll stop by your house after work, okay? I'll see you later."

Arthur waited impatiently for the short grunt of reply before he hung up. Alfred was often very stubborn, and it annoyed the Britain to no end.

"What a stupid thing to get angry at me about…" The blond muttered to himself as he pocketed his cell phone yet again.

He tried not to think too much into it as he walked back inside to finish his shift.

* * *

He expected a text.

He expected to receive at least one measly text during his shift. He expected something along the lines of "I'm sorry, we're still on for our movie right". Hell, even just a simple "Sorry about this morning" would've cut it! But no, of course Arthur didn't receive anything of the sort. It had bothered the Brit all day as he waited tables and refilled drinks. Of fucking course Alfred still believed that he was right about being mature enough to own a motorcycle; he thought that about almost anything that he did!

And so by the time his shift ended, Arthur was fuming with irritation. Francis threw him a snarky comment about his attitude as the Brit left the small restaurant, but Arthur's only reply was a quick flip of the bird. He hurried through the chilly, late afternoon air and to his car.

**[Me]**

**I'll be there in ten.**

**[Message sent: 4:10PM]**

His pocket rumbled just as he got into his car, and he rushed to check his message.

**[Alfred]**

**K**

**[Message received: 4:12PM]**

It irked Arthur even more to know that the bloody idiot had his phone on hand all day and didn't even bother to text him. Alfred's reply annoyed the man even further. He detested it whenever Alfred replied with that one mocking letter. Whenever Alfred was annoyed or angry, he would make it so obnoxiously obvious by replying with choppy, emotionless sentences and one word replies. It made Arthur's head fume, and he was fairly certain that the twit knew how peeved it made him, which in turn, proceeded to make the situation even worse.

"Bloody idiot…" Arthur muttered as he tossed his phone onto the passenger's seat and started his car. Alfred was going to get it, oh yes he was! Why was he to blame for being concerned about his well being? Alfred would put a stranger before himself, so someone has to be there for him!

It wasn't their first fight, oh no. A friendship of ten years doesn't come without the occasional argument. Every relationship, rather it be platonic or romantic, has its ups and downs, and Alfred and Arthur were certainly no exception. Granted, the majority of their "fights" were petty little arguments that only happened because they were both too stubborn to admit to being wrong. As angry as Arthur was, he knew that this fight would be no different. They may argue with each other, but after an hour or so, everything will be perfectly alright and they'll laugh it off and watch their movie together and everything will be just fine and dandy!

The thought made Arthur's lips curl into a weak smile as he parked his car in Alfred's driveway. As he pulled the keys out of the ignition, he caught sight of the blue bane of his existence practically smirking at him as it rested next to Arthur's car all shiny and new. The short man grumbled to himself as he exited his car, walked up to the door of Alfred's house, and rang the doorbell once.

The door opened slightly almost immediately, and Arthur caught it and walked into the heated house. The awkwardness of the situation already leaked into the atmosphere as Alfred walked back to his couch and sat down in silence. Arthur, feeling vulnerable, hesitantly followed the taller man and sat on the opposite end.

"My brother isn't healthy, Artie," Alfred began before the Brit even sat down, "It's been five years since we moved out of mom's house, and he's still broken and scarred. He wakes up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and screaming because of how badly she treated us. The first person he calls when that happens is me, and I have to be there for him. He's my brother, Arthur, and I love him to death. I'll be damned if I'm not there for him because I know that if anything bad were to happen to me, he'd be there in a heartbeat."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. Alfred seemed to be uncomfortable as well, because he avoided eye contact and kept his gaze fixed on the coffee table in front of them. After a moment, Arthur spoke up quietly, "You can't always play the role of the hero, Alfred. You have to take care of yourself as well—"

"Wait," Alfred interrupted and peered at Arthur with an unreadable look in his eyes, "Wait, wait, wait… Is this _still_ about the bike thing?"

Arthur couldn't even meet his eyes as Alfred stared questioningly at him. The silence served as his answer, and Alfred shook his head in disbelief, "Fuck, Arthur, I don't know what's worse: me thinking that you were jealous of my brother, or you actually being upset that I can make my own choices now. This argument is pointless," The sudden volume of Alfred's voice made Arthur jump slightly, "You're upset with me because I can make my own decisions now. Do you know how stupid that sounds? I'm twenty-three years old; you've got to stop treating me like a kid!"

Arthur frowned and glanced at Alfred. He was staring at his guest in disbelief with pleading yet angry blue eyes.

"I care for you just as much as you care for Matthew. He may come before I do, but I'll be damned before I let anything bad happen to you, especially if it can be avoided by not being a bloody idiot!"

"I'm not stupid, Arthur! As much as you'd like to believe it, I'm not!" Alfred countered as he suddenly stood up and glared down at his best friend, "You can't keep having me on this… On this stupid leash!"

Arthur, who was getting more and more irritated by the minute, stood up as well and stared into Alfred's baby blue's with rage, "Well maybe you wouldn't need to be put on a damn leash if you weren't such an idiot! My God, Alfred, do you know how many stupid things you've done over the years? Actually, I'm pretty surprised that you're not buried six feet under the ground yet. You can probably owe that to me for saving your arse all the damn time!"

"Oh yeah," Alfred snickered darkly, "Maybe that's where I should be. Maybe—"

"Do you even hear what you're saying? You're such a fucking imbecile, Alfred!" Arthur interrupted loudly, his voice shaking from the strain that he was putting it through. The fight only seemed to grow more and more heated by the minute, and neither man showed signs of quitting.

"Yeah," Alfred spat back, "that's nothing new to you, is it? Stop holding yourself up so high above me just because you're older than me! You're not special, Arthur; I have more important things to worry about than you, or even me. I try so hard to please you and make you happy, but it's so damn hard because you're impossible!"

"And you're no better!"

"Then leave! Fucking leave and go get hammered and sob to yourself until you pass out just like you always do! I can't deal with this right now; I need to get back to more important things, like how to keep my little brother from breaking."

Alfred and Arthur stared intently into each other's eyes in silence. Arthur suddenly felt awful and selfish as his heart pounded violently against his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs. The longer he looked into his best friend's eyes, the more he could see the hurt and the anger emitting from his memorable blue orbs.

"… Fine, Alfred. Go be a bloody hero." He breathed. Without waiting for a reply, Arthur ripped his worn eyes away from Alfred's and walked out the door, making sure to slam it on the way out. The sun was beginning to set, and the October sky was a swirling mix of luscious reds, pinks, blues, and purples, but Arthur paid it no mind as he dragged himself to his car in silence. Not once did he look back as he unlocked his car door and entered, suddenly feeling very alone. With a shaky breath, Arthur put the keys in the ignition and started the car. The obnoxious groaning of the engine wasn't even enough to block out the beating of his heart and the echoing of Alfred's insults that dashed through his mind.

It was 5:02PM when Arthur made the silent, lonely drive home.

* * *

It was the longest twenty minutes of Arthur's life. He was fixed on the road ahead and tried to severe all thoughts of Alfred as he drove home with a straight face. Not once did he crack. No smile, no tears… Absolutely nothing. So when he finally got home, reached for his phone (which didn't have any new messages, as much as he expected one), parked the car, and got inside, he wasn't too surprised when he froze in front of the door and choked back a sob. Arthur was even less surprised when he found himself with his palm over his mouth as tears finally dripped from his tired eyes.

He fell to his knees and sobbed.

It was stupid and he knew it. There he was, a grown man of twenty-six years old crying on the floor because he had fought with his best friend. Arthur was a fool, a selfish fool. Alfred had every right to make his own choices, and he most certainly had the right to miss work to make sure that his brother was all right. That meant that if Alfred wanted to buy a motorcycle and ride it around town for hours, then he has every right to do so, no matter if his best friend says otherwise… Right?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid…" He grumbled. The whole situation was incredibly stupid and pointless. He shouldn't have fought with Alfred because of his own selfish reasons, he shouldn't have bombarded him with insults, he shouldn't have gone home without apologizing, and he shouldn't have left him because he had promised to never do so.

Before he knew it, Arthur found himself in the kitchen blabbering to himself without even attempting to hold back his tears and sudden gasps and sobs.

"Stupid Alfred… 'Go get hammered and sob to yourself like you always do'…" The muttering became more and more incoherent through his gasps and sobs, and he soon found himself with a tall glass of scotch ale in his grasp. Arthur trudged across the kitchen and into the living room while mumbling to himself about his best friend as tears crawled down his pink cheeks. In a minute, he was sitting against his old couch, and in another, his phone was fished from his pocket and locked tightly in his grasp.

"You're a bloody fucking idiot…" A swing of alcohol, "You could've at least apologized. I know that I'm at fault too, but fuck, Alfred…. I love you. I love you so much, you don't understand, I…"

His rambling was quickly replaced with blubbering sobs. Arthur shook his head violently, took another hard swing of his drink, and tossed his phone ruthlessly onto the coffee table in front of him. It was stupid, it really was. There was Arthur Kirkland sitting on his floor, drinking liquor every five seconds while sobbing to himself about how much he loves a man who will never return the feeling. It's a sad sight, he decided as the gulps lasted longer and the sobs grew louder. Arthur's sorrow soon began to be replaced with drowsiness as his eyelids grew heavier and the cup lighter. He wiped at his droopy eyes vigorously and emitted an odd mix of a pained gasp and a yawn. Within minutes, the empty glass was forgotten, and Arthur was lying on the warm rug listening to the thumping of his heart and playing the fight over and over again in his mind.

The time on his phone read 6:01PM when he fell asleep.

* * *

**First up, this is totally a new record for me! It only took me around three weeks to complete the first draft of this chapter, and two days to complete the final draft! It usually takes around two months for me to finish the first draft, but I just really love working on this story and my plot notes are really detailed, so that helps a lot!**

**Secondly, I hope the break off for this chapter was alright! It's a little tiny bit shorter than the length that I prefer my chapters to be, but it was either cut it off here and have it a decent length, or cut it off later and have it be really long. So I hope you're alright with the word count!**

**As for the parallels to the true story, there's not much in this chapter. My mom and her best friend didn't have a huge fight. He fought with his girlfriend, and what happened next can't be revealed yet because what happened is in the next chapter! Speaking of next chapters, chapter three shouldn't take too long, hopefully!**

**As a last note before I put the translation notes in, like... I don't want to beg for reviews, but they do help motivate me A LOT and I appreciate them when I get them! **

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

**Translation Notes:**

_**mon cher - **_**_French: "my dear"_**

_**affreux -French: "awful"**_

_**votre petit ami - French: "your boyfriend"**_


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur was rudely woken by the violent rumbling of his phone against the wooden surface of his coffee table.

He emitted a pained groan as his broken emerald eyes slowly came to fix. The living room was dark and lonesome, and Arthur's heart immediately dropped as he slowly sat up. He had a putrid feeling deep in his gut that clawed at his stomach, and he felt hallow and alone as he peered around the dark room questioningly. A sharp pain in his head suddenly struck, and Arthur grasped his it and let out a groan.

He wasn't quite sure as to what had happened before he blacked out, although the empty glass, the pounding headache, and the bitter taste lingering in his swollen throat signified that he had drunk a bit. The Brit rubbed at his puffy eyes and attempted to remember what had caused the empty feeling that was tearing at him from the inside.

It came back to him almost instantly.

The yelling, the accusations, the dreaded silence, the harsh insults, the sobbing, the self loathing, the drinking…

He had fought with Alfred. Oh yes, he remembered clearly now.

"I need another drink," He blubbered. Before he could even pry himself off the floor, another rumble from his phone grabbed his attention.

**[Alfred]**

**Meet me at our park at 1:40? If ur still up but I know u r**

**[Message received: 1:19AM]**

Arthur's heart shot up into his burning throat, and he half expected himself to puke up all of the night's emotions and regrets. With shaking fingers, he slowly typed his reply as warm tears threatened his vision.

**[Me]**

**Alright.**

**[Message sent: 1:26AM]**

The pain was almost completely unbearable. To say that he felt like shit would be an understatement. He longed for an escape: alcohol, work, sleep, anything that didn't involve confronting Alfred face to face. Arthur wasn't weak, no; in fact, he was a strong, proud man who just happened to be unable to handle pain well.

The Britain breathed out a desperate sigh and stared blankly at his phone. He honestly didn't want to see Alfred. He feared the _what if's_ and he didn't want to face whatever horrible situation could rear out of confronting what had happened. Hell, he didn't even want to _remember_ the argument… But Alfred had asked to see him. Knowing the American awfully well, Arthur was sure that the git tried to look past their fight and continue on his day like it didn't bother him. It could've eaten Alfred from the inside, and he would pretend as though he couldn't even feel it! The older of the two had always despised that. There was nothing wrong with showing a little emotion; Alfred was just young and foolish. He was an immature brat who suffered from an equally immature hero complex and put himself in front of every god forsaken person. Alfred never paid attention to his own problems as long as there was someone else who he deemed had it worse than him.

"And that's why _I_ have to be there for _him_," Arthur decided aloud. Arthur had to be a hero for _his _hero.

Despite the pain in his heart, the blond stood up. The action alone proved to be a chore, and he fell back onto the brown couch behind him. Arthur closed his eyes in aggravation and rubbed at his temples. His head swirled madly and he suddenly felt very ill.

"Maybe I'll take an Advil before I leave…"

* * *

Arthur had second guessed his decision twice. The first time was when he entered the bathroom to pop a pill and make himself look presentable. He gagged as soon as he caught sight of his reflection. He knew that seeing how broken he looked didn't trigger his gag reflex, although irony did play a cruel card with that one.

The second time was just as he was about to open the door and trek outside. Arthur had reached for the doorknob, but suddenly felt very dizzy and toppled over. As much as he would deny it, Arthur wanted to cry. He felt so weak and alone, and he was even beginning to ask himself if seeing Alfred would really be worth it. However, the Kirkland genes possess some sort of inner strength, and so, he managed to pull himself up off the floor and finally walk out into the cold night.

He desperately needed to see Alfred, no matter how badly his body fought it.

As Arthur pulled into the abandoned parking lot of his and Alfred's sentimental park, he felt the regret and guilt wash over him yet again. His heart shot up into his throat and his eyes burnt with pesky tears of fear and self pity.

"Come on, Arthur," He mumbled to himself as he massaged his temples gingerly, "you cannot back away from this now."

With a final sigh of desperation, the nervous Brit tore his keys from the ignition, exited his car, and stepped out into the chilly darkness. He took long strides as the frosty air curled around him and attempted to nip on his gloves fingers and his freckled cheeks, but he paid no mind. His entire attention was on Alfred. He knew where Alfred would be: on a small hill to the far left of the park that was marked by a single, towering lamp post. That very spot was engraved into Arthur's memory; afterall, that was where they had their moment after Arthur's graduation years prior. That was where he had fallen in love with the younger man. That's where so many memories were born, flourished, and shared, and that was where Alfred would be.

Sure enough, Arthur could see the form of a man leaning casually against the lonely post. His footsteps felt lighter and lighter, and his heart felt heavier and heavier as he approached the meeting spot. The painful feeling of emptiness haunted his gut and tugged at his pitiful heartstrings, and Arthur wondered if that was how the lamp post felt. His mind swirled and he felt excruciatingly dizzy; nevertheless, Arthur ignored the ringing in his ears and attempted to maintain his composure as Alfred came into view.

It seemed as though sleeplessness struck Alfred over the head as well. Alfred's shoulders were slouched sorrowfully, his hair was an untidy rat's nest, and his eyes looked sleepy and dull. The appearance didn't seem like Alfred whatsoever, and seeing him like that made Arthur flinch.

"Hi…" Alfred breathed a greeting. Arthur stepped into the hauntingly dim, yellow blanket of light emitted from the desolate lamp post, and then, they were the only two in the world. Arthur could see Alfred clearly, and the world around them seemed to vanish as his sad green eyes casted over his tall friend. The Brit felt very self conscious within a moment, and he ran a gloved hand over his messy locks for comfort. Arthur's reply was silence.

"I um," Alfred spoke up after a moment of painfully awkward quietness, "I don't really know how to begin, actually…"

Arthur dared himself to meet the blue eyes that always made him feel appreciated. They weren't bright, lively blue skies on a summer afternoon as they usually were. The light was gone and replaced with dark, gloomy, rainy skies… It didn't suit Alfred. They weren't Alfred's eyes, they couldn't be. That was not who he was, he shouldn't be sporting such a heart wrenching expression, he shouldn't look so lost and upset, his thin cheeks shouldn't be pink with tear stains, he shouldn't be blaming himself for what had happened, he shouldn't even be going through this, he…

Arthur choked back a sob as he brain littered itself with clusters of thoughts. He tried to reply, he honestly did. A million phrases raced through his cluttered mind: "I'm sorry", "I was wrong", "Please don't beat yourself up", "You're my hero", "Don't leave me, please", "I love you so much"…

"I'm so foolish," The British man squeaked and rubbed at his wet eyes in shame, "I'm such an idiot."

Alfred's mouth gapped opened as he struggled to reply. He was sporting his "kicked puppy" expression, which only heightened Arthur's emotions.

"Arthur, you're not stupid…" He tried to reassure in a frail voice. The man in question shook his head and chuckled darkly.

"No, I am. I've been crying all fucking day, you know? I drank and sobbed to myself until I passed out on the floor. I am the bloody embodiment of self pity. If that isn't stupid, Alfred, then please enlighten me as to what is."

The following pause engulfed the men. The autumn air crept into their bubble of light and carried Arthur's hushed sniffles away into the dark night surrounding them. Minutes ticked by before either dared to crack the glass of silence.

"I'm sorry," Alfred's voice cracked. It wasn't nearly as obvious as Arthur, but the younger of the two was crying as well, "It was stupid, I know it was. We were both wrong, and of course I didn't mean any of those things that I said to you and I regret even thinking them. Arthur, I…"

Another pause ensued. Arthur's heart flipped and pulsed frantically. Tears dripped from his round cheeks as he peeked up at the taller blond in time to seem him scratch at his nose with an expression of uncertainty.

"… You're my best friend," Alfred continued, "We've been through hell and back. You've helped Mattie and me through so much. I've always been Mattie's rock throughout our entire lives. I have to be there to protect him because I love him. I would do anything for him, and you know that. I'm his hero, but… I've never had someone do the same for me, until I met you. I never thought I'd say this, Artie, but you've been my hero. Without you… Hell, I don't even know where I'd be. I don't want to lose you, not to something like this. You're one of the most important people in my life, okay? I want you to always remember that. If you forget anything, please don't let it be that."

Arthur choked back yet another sob and bit down harshly onto his lip. He scrubbed at his swollen eyes as tears cascaded down his cheeks one after another. Alfred frowned, but his tan face soon cracked into a weak smile. Without hesitation, he closed the gap between them and pulled his best friend into his chest and embraced him. The warmth of Alfred's body wrapped around the short Britain, and he clung to the back of Alfred's brown jacket desperately.

"I promise to never leave you, Alfred," He whispered against his shoulder, "I will always be your hero. I'm so sorry for being such a git…"

He felt Alfred's chest bounce with light laughter, and Arthur smiled and breathed in his friend's homely scent. The pair stayed silent for a moment in their embrace until they were pulled away from their sanctuary under the warmth of the yellow light and were back in their park all alone with nothing but the night as their witness. Finally, Alfred pulled away from Arthur and let his strong arms fall to his side.

"I guess we have to do movie night some other time then, huh?"

Arthur smiled.

* * *

A soft blanket of early morning sun peeked through old blinds and dropped itself neatly onto Arthur's sleeping form. With a grumble of disapproval, he slowly opened his tired emerald eyes and sat up with a quiet yawn.

Alfred and Arthur didn't return to their own homes the night before until twenty minutes after two in the morning. Alfred tried to push Arthur into taking off work the next day so that the pair could stay up until dawn wandering town together as they had often done in their adolescence. Alfred's persistence, however, was no use, and Arthur was the one to break off their time together and tell Alfred to go to bed.

A furious rumble from his phone snapped Arthur's eyes opened and tore him away from his thoughts.

"Who the bloody fuck is calling? It's seven-thirty in the morning…" He complained. Arthur reached for his phone, his wooly blanket slipping from his bare shoulders. The caller ID read Alfred, and the Brit rolled his eyes. Of course it was Alfred.

"Mornin', sunshine!" The American greeted joyfully from the other line. Arthur snorted in amusement.

"Yes, yes, what is it, Alfred? Why are you awake so early anyway; you don't have to be at work until four. Shouldn't you be sleeping until noon, per usual?"

"Nope," He laughed, "Well, yeah, I mean, I am scheduled to take four to midnight, but I thought I'd take a cruise around town on my bike! I just wanted to let you know in case you freak out again."

Arthur smiled weakly despite himself. It was honestly reassuring to have someone who thought of you like in a way like so; no matter if Alfred did that to virtually anyone he met.

"Thank you, Alfred. I'll call you after work, alright? Have fun, and be safe on that damn thing."

"Don't worry, Artie," He could practically hear Alfred's doofy grin, "I'll be fine, I promise! I'll talk to ya later!"

The green-eyed blond ended the call with a smile on his face.

"Twit…" He muttered playfully to himself. Arthur was ecstatic to be on good terms with Alfred again. That boy was a walking ray of sunshine, and without him in your life, everything was dark and gloomy. Alfred was the type of person who carried happiness in a bag and donned it to anyone he thought deserved it. Arthur figured that maybe that was why the stubborn American had tried so hard to befriend him back in high school; because he saw how sad and lonely he was and wished to grant him happiness?

Whatever the reason, Arthur Kirkland was truly happy.

* * *

Life seemed better that day.

The drive to work was quick and painless, with traffic being less of an issue than usual. The October air was cool and pleasant, and the sky was bright and blue without a cloud in sight. Arthur felt significantly brighter and happier, and he was sure that he had Alfred to thank for that. With just a glimpse of Alfred's contagious smile, the world was a better place.

"Hell, maybe I'll even confess to him today," He meant it as a joke, but as he parked his car near the front of the steamy restaurant he called work, it felt so right. The words flowed smoothly off of his tongue and didn't even catch in his throat. Arthur was beginning to think that he was dreaming; everything felt too good to be true. He felt so disconnected from the world, and nothing seemed real.

He attempted to dispose of the thoughts as he stepped out of his car and patted his black button down. Arthur took proud, blissful steps, but as he neared the front of his work, a frown fell into place.

"Oh bloody fuck," He breathed as he caught sight of Francis. The second bane of his existence was pacing back and forth across the outside waiting area. As Arthur grew closer, he sensed a strange aura. The tall French man was tugging at his wavy hair and mumbling frantic, silent words to himself as he walked a line in front of the doors with his phone locked tightly in his grasp.

"Francis," Arthur began uncertainly. He held his tongue in wait for the witty remark his old friend would place upon him, however, it never came. At the sound of his name, Francis snapped his head in Arthur's direction and raced down the ramp to greet him.

"Arthur," He called for the shorter man and grasped his shoulders with sweaty palms, "_Oh, Dieu merci! _I thought you were _avec lui!_ You know, Arthur, I… _j'avais peur._ I can't believe it, I really can't. I thought you were there; I was about ready to drive over there no matter what Matthew said. _Je suis desole, je suis desole, je suis desole…_"

Francis droned on as his words became more and more jumbled each time he switched languages. Something wasn't right, Arthur was sure of it. He knew Francis long enough to know how frantic he becomes when he is upset or afraid. Arthur frowned and tried to push the older man off of him as Francis shook and mumbled insanely.

"Francis," He snapped, "Get a hold of yourself and get off me! Why are you crying? What happened?"

The broken, stuttering French ceased and he pierced his gaze into Arthur's eyes. His cheeks were red and wet with tears, and his flirtatious blue eyes were blood shot and fearful. A shiver crept down Arthur's spine and he broke the uncomfortable gaze.

"You… You don't know?" He barely whispered.

"No, I obviously don't," Arthur replied sternly. He swallowed hard as the uncomfortableness of the situation increased with each passing second, "What happened? Was it Matthew? Is he alright, should I call Alfred?"

The taller blond gasped and shook his head as tears bean to weld in his eyes yet again. He chuckled sadly, muttered a few words in his native language, and met Arthur's worried orbs yet again.

"Arthur… Alfred got into an accident this morning. He collided with a truck, and he is in the hospital right now. Matthew said that it looks very, very bad… I'm sorry Arthur, I am so, so sorry."

* * *

**Oh man, updated in a little over a month. I tried to update faster, but I had a hard time writing the first draft for this chapter since I've been suffering from writers block for some time. I do have to say, though, that I like the final much more than the draft (even though it's supposed to be that way)!**

**Anyway, _Alfred is not_ dead. I feel like I should note that. I don't want people thinking that he is, especially since I don't know when the next update will be (hopefully sooner than later, though!). **

**... I also feel as though I should mention that, from here on out, it's downhill. The angst category for this is not to be taken lightly, it's pretty heart wrenching. This chapter alone made me tear up constantly and made my girlfriend sob so aha, I hope you guys know what you're in for!**

**As for the parallels to the true story, as stated in the previous chapter, my mom and her best friend never fought. He fought with his girlfriend, and he met my mom at a park late at night to talk about it, and their friendship grew stronger. My mom found out about his accident at work (they both worked at Olive Garden at the time) thanks to a mutual friend of theirs. Unlike Artie and Alfred, my mom and her best friend didn't have a sentimental park- I just included that as a theme for the story. **

**Anyway, that's all for now! I'm super excited to update this! Let me know what you guys think, yeah? Feedback encourages me greatly and makes me crave writing more! See you all soon!**

**... I should make a cover for this soon.**

**Translation Notes:**

**_Dieu merci - French: "Thank God"_**

**_avec lui - French: "with him"_**

**___j'avais peur - French: "I was afraid"_**

**___je suis desole - French: "I'm sorry"_**


End file.
